


Family Cheer

by Cumberbatch Critter (ivelostmyspectacles)



Category: Forever (TV)
Genre: Christmas Fluff, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-18
Updated: 2014-12-18
Packaged: 2018-03-02 01:25:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,121
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2794679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ivelostmyspectacles/pseuds/Cumberbatch%20Critter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Henry and Abe recount on Christmases past, and present.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Family Cheer

**Author's Note:**

> Why does a majority of my Forever stuff come out as Henry&Abe :o I'm planning on writing another Christmas one, but with both of them and Jo.
> 
> I do not own _Forever_ or _The Night Before Christmas_. Thanks for reading!

They've been through sixty-nine of these. Some were harder than others. Some were more distant, more exotic, and more memorable than others.

Henry thinks that perhaps this is the best Christmas he's had lately.

He isn't sure why, he thinks, as he ducks down to press his lips against the top of Abe's head. There's nothing particularly different about this one, not moreso than the last two. But there's something about this one that really feels alive, and Henry is glad that Christmas spirit seems to be plentiful this year. He enjoys Christmas, and always has.

"Alright, no more egg nog for you," Abe comments and swats at his arm absently.

"Too old for fatherly love?" Henry teases back, and then musses Abe's hair and straightens up.

"No, I'm trying to read."

"Ah." Henry reaches around for the ladel in the crystal bowl on the table. "I seem to recall I've tried to do that on countless occasions, only to be interrupted by a certain child of mine." He refills Abe's cup with more of the nog and offers it out to him. "And unless you are reading Christmas classics, it seems hardly appropriate for the time and day."

Abraham gives him a look over the frame of his glasses, and then puts the book aside. "Well. I can't say no, but that's only because _I_ ," he says, reaching for the cup, "make a very good nog."

Henry chuckles and tops off his drink, retaking his seat near Abe. "That you do. I have no idea when you surpassed my talents." He takes a sip, and stews in the memory of Christmases past. Certain ones spring out more than others, like the first Christmas without Abigail, or his first Christmas with Abraham. "I remember the year when you wanted that bike for Christmas."

Abe leans back in his chair. "Ohh, I remember that bike. She was a beauty. I delivered many a paper on that bike."

Henry smiles fondly.

"Of course, you didn't want to get it for me at first," Abe continues, and Henry's smile falls.

"Abraham, you were far too young to have a bike that sophisticated, surely you realise that now."

Abe shrugs. "Course. After I crashed it and sprained my ankle, but that's not the point. The point _is_ I had a great time with that bike, while she was with me. I'd do it all over again."

"You are lucky that you didn't crack your head open," Henry remarks. He can joke about it now, with reluctance, but it had rattled him to his core when he had gotten the call from the emergency room so many years ago. The feeling of ice trickling through his veins in parental worry wasn't something he was likely to forget.

Abraham makes a dismissive noise, his near silent way of saying, very clearly, _oh well, what are you gonna do?_ , and takes a drink of his egg nog. "I remember you gave it to me on New Year's."

Henry nods slowly. "Yes... You took the money you received from the family and hoped to have enough for the bike yourself."

"But I didn't," Abe adds. "I'll have you know that I have never been so disappointed in my life than not getting that bike. Not that I showed it."

"Oh, trust me, we knew," Henry replies. "Your mom and I... well, needless to say, she talked me into it. You looked so... well, that is to say, you didn't act _un_ grateful," he says contemplatively, "or you wouldn't have gotten it at all, but I realised that we had made a mistake. That I had."

Abe smiles faintly. "Mom was a good influence on you."

Henry returns the smile weakly. He would rather not unwrap that part of his past. Today, of all days. "Yes... Anyway, we went out and got the bike and gave it to you on New Year's and said that we had planned to give it to you all along," he continues.

Abe rolls his eyes. "Oh, I knew you caved."

"I did not cave!"

"Sure." Abe chuckles over his glass, eyes twinkling. "Just like you didn't take my car out for a joy ride last weekend."

Henry pauses, and then fingers the lip of his glass absently. "You were due for an oil change, I decided to lend a hand," he simply says, and watches the liquid in his glass tremble in rings as he taps on the exterior.

"I know how to change oil. _You_ know how to change oil."

"Regardless." Henry straightens up, giving Abe a look. _No, I am not about to be chastised by my own son for taking his car out, expired driver's license or not,_ he thinks, and he can tell by the way Abe's looking at him that Abe knows exactly what he's thinking. "Moving on."

Abe laughs softly. "Oh, I remember you used to read to me, every Christmas Eve-"

" _The Night Before Christmas_ ," Henry remarks fondly. "Yes. Only one night a year. You would beg me to read it to you."

"What can I say? I like Christmas."

"Me, too." Henry glances back at Abe, then tilts his head slightly.

Abe catches his gaze. "What?" His eyebrows crawl up. "Oh, my God, you're thinking about it. You're going to pick up the tradition when I'm sixty-nine?"

"Why not?" Henry stands, happiness flaring in his heart. It's fast and free, warming him to his fingertips and making his face ache from a smile. "I still have a copy around here somewhere."

"Don't you have that thing memorised by now?"

Henry smiles. "Oh, but it's better with the pictures."

"Smart aleck."

Henry laughs out loud and heads for his laboratory to peruse his books. He knows he has a copy; it's just a matter of looking in the right place.

"So, can I sit on your lap or was that just a one-age-group type thing?" Abraham calls down the stairs, sarcasm layered beneath the humour in his tone.

"You know my lap is always open," Henry calls back with an equal amount of sass in his tone. Abe got it from him, he supposes, but no matter. They are so in sync with one another at this point that the sarcasm relates directly to laughter, and yes, that's Abe laughing down at him as Henry searches through his dusty books.

Henry smiles to himself. He hopes to hold onto the fluttery feeling radiating throughout his fingers, the warmth of a cosy home and a loving family and Christmas-times spent together. Age may give him experience, but only experience can give him this.

He finds the book and, with a triumphant smile, heads back upstairs to his son.

 


End file.
